


Running Hot

by battle_cat



Series: Inappropriate Vehicular Activity [5]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Battlelust, Car Sex, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:17:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6744751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battle_cat/pseuds/battle_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had almost been too easy. She’s still crackling with jittery energy that wants to shake out of her body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Hot

**Author's Note:**

> Based on YoukaiYume's [delightfully smutty art](http://youkaiyume.tumblr.com/post/143662436793/smut-ahead-more-inappropriate-vehicular).

It had really been a very small firefight. A pack of nomad scavs who’d had no idea who they were going up against when they’d decided to chase after the sleek black car on its way back to the Citadel from a long scouting run.

It hadn’t been enough to leave her genuinely afraid for their lives. Just enough to get her blood zinging with adrenaline and appreciate the explosive crossbow bolts she’d packed at the last minute and just how very, very fast the Interceptor could go when Max was behind the wheel.

She whoops as they leave the last of the pursuers behind, pulse thudding and everything feeling hot and bright around her.

“Nice shooting,” Max rumbles.

“Shine driving,” she answers. He has a tiny smile on his face.

It had almost been too easy. She’s still crackling with jittery energy that wants to shake out of her body. She’s ready to fight, land kill shots and watch blood spatter, pound knuckles into flesh and crack bone with metal, tackle and grapple and land on top...

Or…maybe the next best thing…

She puffs out a long, shaky exhale. “Heart’s pounding,” she says with a sly glance over at him. His eyes don’t leave the road.

She takes his hand off the gearstick and puts it on the sweat-damp skin of her chest, above the line of her shirt, so he can feel it too.

“Mm-hmm.” His gaze is still fixed straight ahead but the little smile is back at the corner of his mouth.

“Miss the action sometimes, y’know?”

“Mm.”

She moves his hand down to her breast, warm and solid against where she’s still breathing hard. She’s the one doing all the moving, and she’d think he wasn’t even paying attention, except that his thumb brushes just once back and forth across her nipple.

She exhales again. The very tips of his fingers slip under the fabric of her top, rough against flushed skin.

She drags his hand down into her crotch, and is just curling his fingers around the right spot to press against her through the hot leather when he extracts his hand to shift gears.

“Wouldn’t wanna stall out,” he says blithely. “Still a long way from the Citadel.”

It’s a game the rest of the way back. Her body a little too close and her hand entirely too high on his thigh as she reaches over to snag his canteen, even though she knows hers is still a quarter full. His hand sliding down to knead at the inside of her knee as she leans over for a decidedly unnecessary survey of the ammunition box mounted on the dash where he can reload for her. (She gets him back for that one, with a brush of a metal digit along the back of his neck that makes him shiver suddenly and swerve.)

By the time they reach the Citadel it’s nighttime and she feels ready to vibrate out of her skin.

 

The lift is powered by a generator now, instead of human bodies worked to death. Which means there is no one in the garage except the lone sentry who lets them up, whom Furiosa speedily dismisses.

Max actually makes a show of getting his pack and weapons out of the car, the fool, completely ignoring her twitching beside him. It’s his own damn fault, really, that she has to spin him around and slam him so hard against the car door.

He groans as their bodies meet, as she bites at his bottom lip, sucking in the taste of dust and blood and cordite. His hand curls around the back of her neck, and then with a sudden surge he flips them, so she is the one pinned between hot flesh and cooling metal.

His hand is on her ass and her hips buck, grinding against the bulge of his erection. “Bed?” he pants against her neck.

“Too faaaar,” she groans, writhing under the hard suck of his mouth under her jaw. “Here…” His low laugh rumbles through her where lips and chest are pressed against her, and then his fingers hook into her belt loops and he’s moving her, and she’s letting him steer her toward the front of the car in a haze of want.

She moans when he pushes her down against the hood, the engine still warm but not hot enough to burn, not nearly as hot as his breath on the back of her neck as he unbuckles her pants and tugs them down. She can hear him undoing his own and then his knee pushes hers up to rest on the bumper and his cock is sliding into her from behind.

“Nnggghh—fuck, Max—ahh—“ It dissolves into something wordless as he starts thrusting hard.

It’s frantic and hot and filthy, a mess of sweaty skin and panting breath and awkward bangs of her knee against metal, the sharp poke of his belt buckle against her thigh, high needy sounds that seem to come from someone else. Her hands grapple for purchase on the hood; the metal one scrapes, the flesh one ends up twined up in his fingers as she braces on her elbows to arch back against him.

His other hand runs down between her slicked-wet thighs, and she hardly needs it but his fingers nudge through her folds to find her clit, and he barely has to touch her at all before she’s gasping and clenching down hard around him. He makes some kind of ragged noise at the sensation and then he’s coming too, a sharp exhale and a hot spurt inside her as she’s still twitching with aftershocks. It can’t have taken more than five minutes.

“Mmf.” His weight sags heavy on top of her as he catches his breath, and she doesn’t mind it, doesn’t care that she’s bare-assed bent over his car in the garage where anyone could find them, his softening cock still inside her. Doesn’t care that she’ll have a bruise on her knee and stiff crunchy leathers tomorrow, especially if she pulls up her pants with his come still dripping out of her the way she wants to, a dirty little secret between them as they navigate the quiet passageways back to her room.

The restless twitching energy inside her has gone still. “Bed now,” she mutters as they help each other buckle pants and pull what they need out of the car. “To sleep in.”

He pauses to kiss her, so soft and sweet and gentle she could fall asleep leaning against him right there.

“Scratched your car,” she mutters when they break apart, tracing the silvery lines where her metal hand had clawed the paint off. “Gonna…have to touch it up.”

“Mm. Think I’ll leave it,” he says as he shoulders his pack. “Souvenir.”

“What’s that?” It’s one of those Old World words he holds onto that she never had any use for.

“Reminder,” he says, the shadow of a smile there once more. “Of…good memories.”

She slings rifle and pack over her shoulders and there’s still enough room for his arm to slide around her back as they begin the climb up the stone passageways to her room.


End file.
